


Like A Nice Cup Of Tea Or A Cigarette

by mysticanni



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26683843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Miami loves Roger but surely Roger can't really be interested in him?Roger loves Miami but surely Miami can't really be interested in him?
Relationships: Roger Taylor/Jim Beach
Comments: 16
Kudos: 26





	Like A Nice Cup Of Tea Or A Cigarette

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Mastermind' by The Divine Comedy 
> 
> "Well we all need reassurance as we play life's game of endurance  
> Like a nice cup of tea or a cigarette"

Miami watched Roger from the wings. He could see the others too – John was perching on the bottom step of the drum risers – Brian was at the front of the stage with cables writhing around his feet like guitar-charmed snakes – Freddie was shimmying around Brian – but Miami could only really see Roger – a golden blur furiously drumming.

He admired Roger’s arms as he moved, drinking in the rippling muscles. He could see Roger’s lean legs – those long slender thighs encased in tight jeans. He imagined extracting Roger from this denim prison. Roger’s hair flew out in a blond cloud as he moved then settled around his extraordinarily beautiful face. 

Miami loved Roger with every beat of his own heart and every beat of Roger’s drums. 

He loved Roger and he could – miraculously – show that love to Roger – astonishingly – Roger permitted Miami to hold him and kiss him and delight in him.

It could not last, of course, Miami knew that. Roger could have anyone he wished. Roger had many suitors who were better-looking – probably better in bed – better in general. Roger could do better. And sooner or later – almost certainly sooner – Roger would realise that and vanish from Miami’s embrace – flitting to his next conquest.

At their last venue he had overheard one of the catering staff asking one of the roadies if it was true that Roger was seeing “that weird little lawyer guy”. Miami supposed that was how everyone saw him – possibly including Roger. Was Roger bestowing attention on him as a kindness? Roger was kind. Roger was aware of the people on the edge of things and tried to include them – to scatter a little stardust their way. Miami was one of the peripheral people. So he knew what he had with Roger could not last but he intended to enjoy it while it did.

*

The club was dark but Roger glittered like a beacon of light – drawing everyone to him. Miami was revolving around him too – a moth to his flame. Roger was laughing – Roger was always laughing – with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

Miami only vaguely recognised most of the people in the group surrounding Roger. He edged a little closer and Roger noticed him. Roger’s face lit up. He transferred his glass to the hand holding his cigarette and reached out towards Miami – drawing him into the circle of light. “You all know Miami, don’t you? He keeps me on the straight and narrow...”

It was an odd phrase Miami thought, as he basked in the glow of Roger’s attention. There was nothing straight about either of them and Roger was not narrow – he was expansive and wide-open and broad-minded. He accepted the glass Roger was holding out to him and felt Roger’s now free hand on his back – solid and reassuring.

But all too soon Roger withdrew his hand and indicated that he would like his drink back. It was impossible to speak over the volume of the music. Perhaps that meant he was getting old. Was he too old for Roger? And yet Roger had seemed happy to see him. 

It was the last night of the tour. Everyone wanted the band. Miami sipped his own drink and watched Roger move from group to group with apparently unflagging energy.

Brian had vanished with a ravishing red-head. Freddie had disappeared too. John was dancing. John looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. He probably didn’t. He was rich and famous and riding high on the euphoria of their latest successful show. He was not waiting for his hear to break.

*

Roger bounced on the hotel room bed. “This has a very firm mattress,” he giggled. “Come here,” he added, “I want you. I’ve wanted you all night.”

Sometimes Miami marvelled at Roger’s energy. Roger slid off the bed and wrapped himself around Miami, peppering his face with little kisses. Miami glanced the clothes-strewn room and considered the early flight the next day but Roger was kissing him properly now - urgently - and Miami was compelled to respond to him.

*

Miami wished he could sleep on flights. Roger was lolling against him drooling slightly. Miami had risen early to pack. He glanced around furtively to ensure no one was watching them then pressed a kiss to Roger’s forehead. The others knew about their relationship, of course, but this intimacy was not to be shared. Roger looked young and innocent and peaceful.

“Sweet,” Crystal commented, as he collapsed into the seat opposite them. Miami flushed, unsure if Crystal had seen the kiss or simply thought that Roger looked sweet.

Before Crystal could say anything else John appeared, brandishing a folder, “Miami, perhaps now would be a good time to go over those figures,” he suggested. 

Miami thought now would be an excellent time to simply continue acting as Roger’s pillow but he supposed he was technically working. He wondered how to extricate himself without waking Roger. John seemed to realise the problem. “I’ll sit on the other side of you,” he offered, “so you don’t have to disturb sleeping beauty.”

*

It was raining in London. It was cold and wet and grey. Roger was colourful and cheerful and defiantly sunny. “We can have a proper cup of tea when we get home,” he beamed. 

Miami grinned. “How very rock ‘n’ roll!”

Roger laughed. “You don’t fool me – I know you’re desperate for a decent brew too!” He linked arms with Miami as they left the terminal building and scurried towards the taxi rank, assaulted by the downpour.

*

Home was a modest terraced house. Roger had dreams of something much grander, Miami knew, but he was never entirely sure if Roger envisaged Miami also residing in the lap of luxury in Roger’s ideal home. Miami thought these dreams were unlikely to include him.

When Roger had left home his grandmother had knitted a multi-coloured tea-cosy to warm the ‘brown betty’ teapot Roger’s mother had given him. The tea-cosy had subsequently been pressed into service as a wig on stage so they now used a tea-cosy with swirls of red and orange that Roger had crocheted himself – the colours as warm and vibrant as Roger.

As Roger filled the kettle from the tap Miami stood behind him and wrapped both arms around Roger’s waist, resting his chin on Roger’s shoulder. Roger giggled. “Behave,” he laughed, “this is a very serious process you know!” 

Miami nuzzled his neck. “You and your sexy tea-making ceremonies drive me wild,” he said solemnly.

Roger did take tea seriously. Each member of the band did, even John and Brian who both preferred coffee. 

Roger took drumming, music and tea seriously, Miami thought, not necessarily in that order. He released Roger to allow him to continue the serious process of making tea.

Miami had always just slung a tea-bag in a mug and poured boiling water on to it. He had a preferred brand of tea-bags but beyond that he had never really thought about tea all that much.

Roger liked to make his tea using tea leaves which he stored in brightly coloured tea caddies. He had several different varieties of tea although he consumed more Darjeeling than anything else. Miami had seen Darjeeling described somewhere as ‘the champagne of tea’ which seemed fitting for Roger. 

Miami watched Roger spoon tea leaves into the tea-pot, apply the hot water and pop on the tea-cosy. Once the tea had brewed for the correct length of time (determining the correct length of time was a mysterious skill Miami doubted he’d ever acquire) it was poured into fine china mugs. Miami had expected Roger to use a cup and saucer as part of this rigmarole but he had quickly discovered that Roger liked a decent sized mug of tea.

Miami packed a little travel kettle, stacking picnic mugs and an astonishing number of tea-bags when they went on tour. The mugs were plastic which Roger mournfully told Miami was not the same every time they had a cuppa in a hotel room. Miami unsympathetically told him to pack a china mug for himself if he was that bothered. 

“I don’t have room,” Roger would whine. This was Roger’s excuse for getting Miami to pack all the tea-making paraphernalia in his luggage. “It’s okay for you, Mi, you don’t need clothes.”

Miami would kiss him and tell him, “Your tea ritual requirements take up precious book space. And i do need clothes, actually, you demanding brat.”

The last time they had this discussion – just before they had embarked on the tour they had just returned from – Roger had looked at Miami from under his ridiculously long eye lashes and had replied, “Well, I prefer you without clothes. Are you sure you’re going to be doing a lot of reading?”

Miami had hummed appreciatively. “Apparently I’m going to be watching you drink vast quantities of tea while wearing a variety of outfits.”

Now, Roger looked small and soft in the loose comfortable clothing he had selected for the flight. His hair was tied back from his face and beaded with raindrops like little jewels. Miami watched him take two mugs from the mug-tree and blurted out, “I love you!”

But this romance was surely always destined to be short-lived and should have been kept light-hearted, Miami thought. He suspected he had just hastened the end with his big mouth. 

Roger turned and blinked sweetly at him. “Goodness,” he said after a small pause, “you must be seriously in need of a decent cup of tea.”

Miami opened his mouth but no sound emerged. His thoughts were a whirling jumble of panic and emotion with no coherence to them. Roger closed the gap between them and kissed him. It was a short, sweet, kiss. Roger was looking at him with a puzzled expression on his beautiful face.

Miami sighed. “It’s been a long day,” he ventured. It’s been a long day and I’ve lost my mind, he thought. Perhaps it was best to stick to safe subjects like the weather.

“Yes,” Roger agreed, continuing to scrutinise him. He looked as if he was about to say something but then turned away. “The tea should be just about ready. Everything’s always better when you have a nice cup of tea.” He flashed a smile at Miami. “Aren’t you lucky to have found someone who can make you the perfect cuppa?”

“I’m very lucky,” Miami choked out. Really, he thought, faced with such waves of emotion Roger would probably run for the door any second now.

“Have a seat,” Roger suggested, “and I’ll serve you tea and biccies if we have any. Did you get some at the shop, when you nipped out for milk?”

Miami nodded, feeling it was safer not to speak at present. He was tired, he told himself. He was tired and in love, his thoughts suggested. He was tired and in love with a man who almost certainly regarded their relationship as a fun interlude before moving on to something better. He was taken by surprise by a sudden insistent voice in his head announcing that he wanted to spend his whole life with Roger. Well, little insistent voice, he thought, you seem doomed to disappointment.

*

It had been – not a dare, not exactly – a challenge perhaps. Freddie had flung his arm around Roger and drunkenly declared that Roger could have anyone he wanted. Roger had looked across the table and caught Miami’s eye. Miami looked respectable, pristine in his dark suit and spotless white shirt. He had smiled at Roger and Roger had thought that no – he could not have anyone – someone as clever and accomplished, as responsible, restrained and reserved as Miami would not take on someone as much of a mess as Roger.

Roger did not think he could have Miami but Freddie’s assertion that he could have anyone had been like a gauntlet thrown in his path. And he had been astonished by how receptive Miami was to his advances. In the end, getting Miami into bed had not been much of a challenge after all.

He had sought Miami’s company. He had discovered he very much liked Miami’s company. He enjoyed hearing Miami’s wry observations. He was comforted by Miami’s soothing tones after rows with the others. He could be quiet with Miami. He could flop against him and Miami would simply be there for him – kind and solid and calm and reassuring. He could be himself with Miami.

Eventually, after a few months of spending time with Miami, Roger had kissed him. He had been tipsy. They had been at a party. Miami had returned the kiss and had not protested when Roger had led him by the hand to his hotel room. 

The following morning Roger had awakened as Miami had attempted to quietly sneak out. “Stay,” Roger had requested drowsily, adding, “We’re good together, aren’t we?”

And they had remained together. When the lease was up on Roger’s bed-sit he had moved into Miami’s much nicer house.

Roger was waiting for Miami to grow tired of him – for some nonsense or other to be the final straw for him – for him to sit Roger down – perhaps over a cup of tea – and tell him gently that it had been fun but now it was time for them both to move on. He would be kind about it, Roger thought. 

But now – incredibly – Miami had told Roger that he loved him.

Roger set a mug of tea in front of Miami. He’d used Miami’s favourite mug – the sea-blue one. It was Assam tea which Miami preferred with its intense flavour – rich and strong. A tea you could depend on to pick you up just as you could depend on Miami, Roger thought. He pressed his lips to Miami’s cheek. I love you too, he thought – but he was scared of saying it out loud and breaking the spell. 

*

Miami was frequently amazed by how much time the band spent together. Having been constantly with each other during the tour he had expected them to welcome a break from each other’s company. But the day after they had arrived home Freddie arrived on their doorstep. He breezed past Miami when he opened the door and swept into the kitchen where Roger was sitting at the table sipping tea and munching toast. Roger looked up, “Morning Freddie,” he chirped. “Would you like tea?”

“It’s afternoon, darling, and yes, that’d be lovely,” Freddie said. “And then I’m taking you shopping.”

Freddie preferred gunpowder tea. A green tea, Miami had learned. He had never heard of it until he had met the band. Roger had told him it was sometimes called pearl tea as the leaves were rolled up into little pellets and they unfurled in the hot water – or exploded in the hot water if you liked the gunpowder analogy. “It’s a dramatic tea,” Roger had noted, “perfect for Freddie.”

Miami started to make tea for Freddie. “I’ll tell you once it’s brewed to perfection,” Roger told him. 

Miami grinned. “Thank you,” he said, rumpling Roger’s hair.

Freddie offered Roger a cigarette and frowned when he shook his head. “You’re not giving up again, are you darling?”

“No,” Roger replied, “but I have my own, thanks. And you know I don’t smoke when I’m eating.”

Freddie lit a cigarette and surveyed Roger. “Smoking is a vile habit, of course, but I like having a partner in crime.” He glanced at Miami. “It’s sweet of you to avoid smoking around Miami.”

Roger looked like a rabbit illuminated by the headlights of an oncoming car. “You know I don’t smoke when I’m eating, Freddie,” he repeated.

“If you say so, dear,” Freddie said in a tone of polite disbelief.

Miami considered this exchange as he made the tea. He didn’t like people smoking when he was eating and Roger never did. Miami tried to recall if Roger had behaved in this way before they had started seeing each other. “You like a cigarette with your tea, don’t you Rog?”

“Yeah,” Roger nodded, “My two vices – tea and cigarettes!”

Freddie snorted and Miami laughed. Roger looked hurt. “They are my two vices,” he protested, “I don’t drink to excess or gamble or jump into bed with everyone I meet!” He considered this and added, “Not now, anyway.”

“Darling, you may not gamble,” Freddie conceded, “but you’ve certainly drunk to excess and you’ve done quite a bit of bed-hopping in your time. I’m not judging, dear. We’ve all done it.”

“They’re not vices, though,” Roger argued, “I can easily live without alcohol or drugs and I only want Miami in my bed.”

Miami flushed and Freddie made a face at Roger. “How sweet, dear.”

“Tea and cigarettes are soothing,” Roger continued, “and I’d really miss them if I couldn’t have them.” He considered this. “I rely on them. I can’t really function properly without them.”

“Sweetie, it’s debateable if you’re functioning properly with them,” Freddie told him. “Now, get ready so we can hit the shops!”

*

“This colour would look lovely on you, Roggie,” Freddie said, pulling a pale blue jacket from a rail and holding it up for inspection. He set the jacket aside and surveyed Roger, his hands on his hips. “What’s wrong, dear? You’ve been distracted since we left the house. Is everything okay with Miami?”

Roger gulped. “Um – Yes – Did he say something?” he gabbled.

“You’re sweet when you’re all flustered. What have you done?” Freddie asked.

“Nothing?” Roger said. Perhaps Miami had realised he simply loved Roger as one might love a pet.

“He didn’t say a word to me,” Freddie told him, studying Roger. “What are you worried he might have said?”

Roger sighed deeply. “I...I am in love with him.”

“Well, yes, darling, that’s completely obvious,” Freddie informed him.

“I’m not sure it’s obvious to Miami,” Roger mumbled, “but I’m scared that if I tell him I’ll frighten him away. I need him, Freddie. But who needs – or wants – a needy boyfriend?”

Freddie linked their arms and steered Roger out of the shop and down the street until they reached a small park. Freddie commandeered a little bench under a tree. “What makes you think Miami isn’t serious about your relationship?” he wondered. “He lives with you. That’s a pretty big commitment.”

“I think I kind of forced him to take me in,” Roger sighed, his fingers pulling anxiously at the fraying edges of a hole in his jeans. 

“Well, he hasn’t kicked you out yet, has he?” Freddie pointed out. “I’ve seen how he looks at you, dear. He seems absolutely besotted.” He looked thoughtful. “How’s your sex life?”

“Excellent, thank you,” Roger told him, “and off-limits.”

“Why don’t we find you something gorgeous to wear and you can declare your love for him over a romantic dinner for two this evening?” Freddie said excitedly. He stood and pulled Roger to his feet. “You can tell me all about it tomorrow!”

*

Roger normally returned from shopping trips with Freddie laden with bags and in high spirits. Yet he seemed agitated on his return and did not seem to have bought anything. “Would you like some tea?” Miami offered.

Roger nodded. “Yes, please,” he said. He followed Miami round the kitchen like a clingy toddler.

“Did you have a row with Freddie?” Miami wondered. 

Roger shook his head. “No, not exactly,” he mumbled, “he gave me some advice and I...” He sighed.

Miami sat down and pulled Roger onto his lap. “Can you tell me the problem?” he asked gently. A thought occurred to him. “Am I the problem?”

Roger laughed. “Not exactly,” he said. He rested his head on Miami’s shoulder. “Freddie thinks I should tell you I’m in love with you,” he told him.

“Oh,” Miami felt as if his stomach was turning somersaults, “but you don’t love me?” he guessed. 

Roger looked shocked. “No, I do! I love you very much!” His eyes searched Miami’s face. “I’m every bit as addicted to you as I am to tea and cigarettes - probably more so, actually.”

He looked puzzled Miami thought. “You love me,” he murmured, “and I love you,” he added.

“I thought...I know you probably only wanted a little fun short term thing...” Roger gabbled. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you!”

Miami stroked Roger’s hair. “You don’t want to be in love with me?” he queried. 

“I do want to!” Roger gulped, “But...Do you?” he whispered.

The kettle came noisily to the boil. For once, they ignored its siren call. “I thought,” Miami said slowly, “that this,” he gestured between them, “was a bit of fun for you. I’ve been waiting for you to move on to someone more exciting – better.”

Roger looked appalled. Then he laughed. “There is no one better for me than you,” he declared. “Oh, Mi, I’ve been waiting for you to move on to someone less...of a mess.”

“You’re not a mess,” Miami said in surprise.

“Damn,” Roger mumbled, pressing his face to Miami’s shoulder. “This means Freddie was correct. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Miami smoothed his hair. “I’m glad he forced us to talk, though,” he told Roger. “I wish we’d had this chat much sooner.”

Roger kissed him. “Freddie’s gonna know we’ve been idiots,” he sighed. He considered this. “Actually, I think maybe he knew already.” He kissed Miami again. “Ah well...Shall we have tea?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you got this far then thank you for reading! :-)


End file.
